Momentous
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: It's quiet. Just the rustle of fabric, quiet steps on the carpet and the soothing whisper of his voice. It's the small moments.
1. Chapter 1

**Momentous**

It's quiet. Just the rustle of fabric, quiet steps on the carpet and the soothing whisper of his voice. She climbs the stairs, pushes the door open, quietly slides into the dim room. The drawn blinds shut out most of the bright glare of the winter sunlight and her eyes adjust, focus on the man.

He's relaxed in the rocking chair, its motions soundless as he sways it back and forth with the push of his toe. The baby is cradled to his chest, his large palm supporting her bottom and she's so tiny still, her little fists clenched and Kate's stomach flutters with a wave of emotion. The girl's cheek rests against his collarbone, her eyes closed and her mouth relaxed in sleep, drooling a little on his shirt. His head is tilted to her, his lips against the downy hair on top of her head, murmuring sweet nothings to his daughter.

Her eyes well, her knees buckle and she has to hold on to the door frame for a moment, finding her center. She expected to love her baby from the start, but she doesn't think she was at all prepared for how intense, how beautiful, how life-altering this actually feels. It's been a few days but she still stumbles sometimes, can't quite believe that she's here, that she's a mother, that they made this perfect, tiny human.

She takes a moment just to breathe, to take in her small, gorgeous family, this man who waited for her so that they'd get to have this one day.

She sniffs away a tear, didn't realize she'd made a sound until his eyes come up, focus on her. "You okay?"

She smiles through the curtain of tears, pushes away from the door frame and walks over to them, sinking to her knees next to the rocking chair. "Yeah."

Her hand is drawn to her baby like a magnet; she can't stop touching her, running her palm soothingly over the girl's curved back, sliding a fingertip over the tiny rim of her ear, the chubby cheek, down her button nose.

"Did you get some rest?"

She nods, caressing her daughter's hand and her little fingers flex, grab around hers, holding on tight, so tight. "Had she woken up?"

"Hm hmm," he nods, his thumb trailing over the baby's little fist and her hand, caressing them both. "A little. And I… missed her," he admits quietly.

"I missed her too." She looks up at his face, finds his eyes focused on her, so dark blue. "Both of you."

"Come here," he murmurs, flexing his right leg.

She rises, eyes his lap, not sure how to do this but he spreads his knees, digs his toes to the floor, holding the chair steady. Carefully she slides between his legs, perches on his left thigh, her legs tucked between his as she curls an arm around his back, snuggling in close.

He bands his arm around her with a deep sigh, his fingers curled into her waist, holding her tightly to him and she leans her forehead into the crook of his neck, her cheek to his collarbone where she's face to face with her beautiful little girl; her breaths coming in fast, damp puffs, fast asleep.

Safe in his arms.


	2. 02 Home

_**Home**_

She stumbles out of the elevator, her legs heavy as she crosses the hallway. A headache pounds behind her forehead; even the roots of her hair seem to hurt. Her gait drags, tonight; the heavy weight of a case unsolved lying on her shoulders, of a victim so gruesomely mutilated she was barely identifiable, a family left behind in shambles.

Some days she hates her job, its darkness, the heartbreaking realities she faces day by day, and she wants nothing more than to run away, leave it all behind, un-see the things she's had to see.

The hallway has never seemed this long as she drags her feet along the luxurious carpeting and when she finally reaches the door, she rests her forehead against it for a long moment, eyes closed, her breathing shallow, no energy left to even pull the keys out of her pocket. Her whole body sags heavily against the door and she wishes the weight of it all would just push her inside, for her to simply seep through the wood until she's on the other side, where there is peace and warmth and joy.

A sound from inside startles her, the scrape of a chair or the bang of a door; her eyes fly open, a deep breath infusing her lungs and then she fishes for her keys, fumbles them into the lock until it gives way beneath her hands and swings open to the cozy, warm light of her home.

"Mommmmma," the little voice chirps and then her baby girl toddles toward her, big blue eyes and bouncing blonde curls as she wobbles forward on her chubby, still unsteady legs, her arms raised, ready to be caught by the safety of her arms.

Kate sinks to her haunches, enthralled by the wide, gummy smile of her baby, the surge of warmth spreading from her midsection into her fingertips and toes, infusing her with a wave of such joy that she is breathless, overwhelmed.

"Jo…" she hums, opens her arms wide until the girl stumbles into her and Kate wraps her into a tight embrace, rises to her feet, the baby tucked securely against her chest.

She breathes in her comforting scent, powder and clean laundry and baby, her eyes welling with a surge of relief she didn't realize she needed. "My sweet girl," she whispers and the baby snuggles her face against her neck, holding unusually still in her mother's arms.

A pair of strong arms envelops them both, the baby between them as Castle pulls her against his chest and she sinks her forehead to his shoulder, her eyes falling closed as one of her hands grab around his waist, her fingernails digging into his skin on an extended breath that is too close to a sob.

His hands splay wide over her back, his fingertips caressing up and down her spine and she lets her weight drop onto him, feels as if she can finally breathe again. The horror of her day slides off her shoulders, slowly bleeds out into the warmth of their home, fades from the safe pillar they form in the middle of the entry.

It's all she needs.


	3. 03 Wonder

_**AN:**__ The scenes of this story are not in chronological order._

* * *

**Wonder**

He pushes through the doorway, arms laden with plastic shopping bags that weigh heavy on his wrists, cut off the circulation to his fingertips and he rushes inside, dropping everything on the kitchen floor.

"Shhh not so loud," Kate hushes him from the couch, but her voice is calm, affectionate; she's not even looking up at him as she speaks.

He blows onto his frozen fingertips, kneads them to get his blood flowing again. The frigid January wind howls around the corners of the building, the first predicted snow flurries now sailing from the sky, icy crystals that shimmer and sparkle in the pale afternoon light. He steps to the room's thermostat, checks the settings but it's warm inside, making his cheeks glow.

They were out of a few essentials so he went to the store, just around the corner but, well okay, yes he overdid it again but he wanted, _needed_ everything stocked, wanted anything available that they could possibly want so they wouldn't have to leave the loft again at all, preferably for days. It's cozy and quiet here; their safe haven.

He walks around the couch, carefully sinks down into the seat cushion next to Kate who's huddled into its corner. Her legs are drawn up at a slight angle and the baby is lying on her thighs, her head by Kate's knees and the little legs kicking erratically. She pushes her feet off Kate's stomach, her arms flailing, fists balled and she tries to shove them in her mouth for a moment before they wave through the air once more.

Kate rests her palm on the girl's chest, humming soothing sounds and he watches in awe as the baby's jerky movements calm at her mother's touch, her little body relaxing incrementally. Her eyes hone in on Kate, and focus; wide open, an almost celestial blue shining with such bright interest, so much curiosity at her surroundings that it takes his breath away.

Only three days old and he feels as if he knows her already, her personality displayed in all the facets of her eyes. Bright intellect paired with her father's curiosity and her mother's compassion, an effervescent personality that will draw everybody in, keep them on their toes.

"I can't stop staring at her," Kate admits quietly, her eyes riveted on her baby. She draws a fingertip over her cheek and the girl turns her head at the touch, seeking the digit with her mouth, pursing her rosebud lips as if ready to nurse and they both laugh at her eagerness. Kate continues her journey, trailing her index finger over her shoulder and down her arm until she's nudging the baby's palm and the tiny, slim fingers grab onto her digit and hold on tight, so tight.

He reaches out, cradles his daughter's tiny foot within his hand, its imprint barely half the size of his palm and suddenly he has to blink away the sheen of tears over his eyes, the well of emotion at this tiny being, so helpless and dependent on them, so eager for the world, so beautiful and perfect.

Their daughter watches them, wide-eyed and observant and his heart thunders, his insides leaping with the unmistakable warmth of intense, unconditional love. He wraps an arm around Kate, tugging her tightly to his side, needing her warmth, her presence; the knowledge that they share all of this, the responsibly and the wonder, this absolute miracle that is their child.

He presses a lingering kiss to Kate's cheek, her skin warm and silky, so familiar against his lips. "Thank you for our daughter."


	4. 04 Warmth

**Warmth**

He wakes slowly, pale morning sunlight tickling his nose and soft pat-pat-pats tapping on his naked back. His eyes feel gritty still, glued shut and he keeps them closed, at first, honing in on the beats on his skin, drifting with the almost indiscernible rhythm. It's lulling and he feels like he floats, in that half-aware state between waking and dreaming, his body sluggish, too heavy to move.

Soft humming joins the thudding over his shoulder blades, the tune becoming clearer with the melodious tones of her voice and the smile slowly spreads on his face. He gives himself another moment, letting the now familiar rhythm tug him into awareness, a languid stretch and then he turns over, opens his eyes to the bright, gorgeous smile of his wife.

Kate is sitting by his waist, a knee folded under herself, their daughter sitting in the firm grasp of her palms. Her fingers are splayed beneath the girl's chubby thighs and she lifts each leg in rhythm, tapping the baby's naked feet onto his stomach now. The humming blends into words as she starts singing, her eyes melting with his, warm, flooded with love.

"Happy Birthday to you…" The baby's eyes widen at her mother's first words, and then a grin splits her round, dimpled cheeks, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Happy Birthday to you…" The girl's arms wave with the melody, the little chubby hands slapping together in what approximates clapping, her whole little body arching with pure joy. She loves music and singing, especially when it's Kate and he just lies there, listening to Kate's voice, watching his happy little baby girl.

"Happy Birthday, dear daddy…" She grins at the words and he laughs with her, reaching out a hand to curl around Kate's waist. "Happy Birthday to you."

She lifts the baby over to him and he reaches for his daughter, cradles her to his chest while Kate curls up next to him, her head resting on her elbow, watching them quietly. Their daughter gurgles happily, blowing spit bubbles while her fingers pinch his skin, suddenly interested in a few of his chest hairs.

"Ouch," he winces and Kate giggles, dislodging the tiny fingertips. She kisses the corner of his mouth, nudging her nose into his cheek.

"Happy Birthday Castle," she murmurs softly and he turns toward her, finding her mouth. He kisses her, tongue curling inside, tasting her deeply, full of longing and happiness and heart until she makes that soft whimpering noise in the back of her throat.

His daughter curled into his chest, drooling on him; his wife pressed to his side, warm and lithe and happy. His heart thuds thickly, his insides limned with warmth.

Best birthday morning ever.


	5. 05 Comfort

_**AN**: For the sweet, lovely Marissa. Just because. :)_

* * *

**Comfort**

He wakes to silence, stark, almost pulsing, so vastly different from just a few hours ago. His heart hammers against his ribcage, his eyes opening to a darkened room.

Dusk has settled, casting splinters of hazy light through the slants of the blinds, grey jagged edges on the wall, the floor, the bedspread. He presses his thumbs to his eye sockets, rubbing away the crusty remnants of sleep.

Ugh, wow. He must've been out longer than he thought.

The noise-cancelling headphones hang half off his head, the app on his iPod still playing its continuous loop of white noise- the rush of the ocean this time- the crash of waves onto the shore, the softer rustle of water receding before it tumbles in all over again; the brush of wind and the caws of seagulls, familiar and relaxing. Like a summer night in the Hamptons.

He shuts it off, pulls off the headphones, swings his feet out of bed. He's feeling it now, the strain to his muscles, the latent soreness that has crept into his limbs from his continuous pacing, wandering the rooms, climbing up and back down the stairs, with the baby's heavy, whimpering weight in his arms for hours and hours.

He'd been up with her all night so that Kate could get enough rest to go to work, and then all day; his little girl whimpering in the cradle of his arms, so pitiful and weak, her face curled against his neck, cheeks flushed with fever, the tiny hands fisted. He'd rocked her, rubbed her back, sang and paced; given her her meds, a cooling bath, nothing had helped much and so he'd just cradled her to his chest, with a palm on her back and his index finger smudging soft caresses to the fine, sweaty skin of her tiny neck. He'd murmured softly to her, endlessly telling her stories and feeling so utterly helpless.

When Kate came home she'd taken one look at him and had sent him to get some rest, lifting their daughter from his arms. "It's okay," she'd reassured, speaking both to her crying baby and to him. "My turn." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingered for just a second. "And use the app," she'd ordered, just as Jo had wailed, her forehead bouncing onto Kate's clavicle, arms flailing helplessly.

"Momomomomommmm…" she'd whimpered pitifully, the only approximation of a word she could form yet, and his heart was aching with every step he took toward their bedroom.

They're not in the living room so he climbs the stairs, his sock-clad feet noiseless against the wood. He can hear Kate's voice now, a low melodic hum that streaks through the crack of the opened door to the baby's room, too low to make out her words.

Carefully he pushes the door open wider, steps into the mostly dark room, only lit by the moons and stars that dance along the ceiling and walls, small flecks of soft yellow light projected by the pink 'Slumber Buddy' butterfly night light.

He arrests at the sight, his heart squeezing in his chest, emotion like thick molasses in his blood. The light casts a glow around his wife as she cradles their child in her arms, softly swaying in the middle of the room- and the baby is quiet. After hours and hours, she has finally calmed, is finally, finally asleep.

The relief he feels is staggering, rushing through his limbs, leaving him weak. All he hears is an occasional snuffle, a long shuddered breath here and there… and Kate's voice, softly singing to her baby as she slowly sways with her.

'_When you're down and troubled, and you need a helping hand, and nothing, nothing is going right…'_

He leans against the door frame, his knees a little shaky, unmanly though it may be. Hardly daring to breathe, he watches, soaks in the moment, so beautiful it's almost ethereal. Caught once more, as he so often is, by how extraordinary she truly is. She's so wonderful with Jo, calm and endlessly tender, the joy and warmth just leaking out of her eyes and her smile. He knows she worries all the time- about being back at work, not being around enough for her child, just not being enough- all of which is ridiculous because the truth is, she's amazing, She's got… magic.

_'Close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night…_'

She's slowly turning, dancing small circles onto the carpet until she notices him in the door. Her eyes find his, warm amber, shining with affection, with hushed promise as she sings quietly, her fingers caressing their daughter's back but looking only at him. Promising them both.

_You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again…_

He steps toward her, ever so carefully wraps his arms around her, unable to take one more moment separated from them. With the baby cradled between them, Kate nestles into his embrace, her cheek against his collarbone. Her free hand curls around his neck, her fingers soft and soothing in the short strands of his hair.

He sneaks his hand between them, runs a fingertip over his daughter's head, feeling her skin, warm and a little sweaty but not nearly as hot; the fever had broken. "She's better," he murmurs, relief rubbing his voice raw. Kate nods, tenderly caresses his nape and he clutches her tighter, tugging them both as close as he can.

With his arms around them he starts swaying, dancing to the silent melody still wrapped around them.

* * *

_**AN**: Kate is singing "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor._


End file.
